This is the first part of the main article from New Scientist, written by Mark Buchanan, who is one of the most interesting scientists out there today, and a very accomplished science writer. He has a Ph.D. in physics, from Yale I believe.
Crazy Money: How Can We Stop The Financial Markets Creating So Much Misery? Forget Textbook Economics, The Answer Lies Elsewhere, Says Mark Buchanan
When you next sit down to watch the TV news, listen out for a telling phrase. At some point the newscaster will say something like: "The financial markets reacted to the report with a sharp fall..." Don't believe a word of it. The markets rarely react to news in this way.
Earlier this year, physicist Jean-Phillipe Bouchaud and colleagues at Capital Fund Management in Paris studied the news feeds produced by Dow Jones and Reuters that provide real-time reports of items of potential interest to investors. Looking at more than 90,000 news items relevant to hundreds of stocks over a two-year period, they studied how 'jumps' in stock prices---sudden, large movements---were linked to news items.
They weren't. Most such jumps weren't directly related to any news at all, and most news items didn't cause any jumps. "Jumps seem to occur for no identifiable reason," Bouchaud says (www.arxiv.org/abs/0803.1769).
This finding flies in the face of traditional economic theory, which insists that markets are mostly in equilibrium, reflecting an overall balance of economic forces. Markets change, the theory says, when those forces change: for example, when good news about a company increases demand for its stock, making its price go up. In this view, dramatic changes can only follow from correspondingly dramatic causes. Bouchaud's evidence says that, in fact, markets have unruly internal dynamics all their own, with rallies and crashes emerging seemingly from nowhere.
Evidence against the simple 'equilibrium' view of economics is piling up from other sources too. Take the recent worldwide credit crisis. Its main cause, the most sophisticated computer models now suggest, may be a fundamental tendency for markets to evolve, like an uncooled nuclear reactor, towards a dangerously unstable state. Everything from observations of irrationality in traders to the statistics of market fluctuations is telling us something is wrong with received wisdom, and a growing band of researchers has formed the view that we desperately need to develop a new theory of economics. "If we don't address the problems, there's absolutely no doubt that other extreme crises will occur in future," says Didier Sornette, an econophysicist at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich.
So what might this new economics look like? The standard theory of financial markets, shaped in large part by American economists Milton Friedman and Eugene Fama in the 1950s, is founded on the idea that the prices of stocks and other securities should tend toward their proper values. There are two reasons for this. First, investors have a strong incentive---the potential loss of their own money---to work out how much an investment is really worth. As rational people, they shouldn't be willing to pay too much for a stock, or to sell it for too little.
Second, the information gathered by millions of investors should in effect be pooled by the buying and selling in the market, making the market price an even better match to the true value of the stock than any individual can arrive at alone. [LeRoy: This is the supposed 'wisdom of crowds' effect...] Any temporary mis-pricing, the theory claims, should quickly get wiped out as some clever investor jumps on it with an eye to an easy profit. In this way, market forces should tend to iron out any problems long before they get unduly large. An unexpected rise or plunge in values just cannot happen unless there has been some correspondingly good or bad news.
This tells us straight away that something about the model is flawed. We are currently experiencing what may be the worst financial crisis since the 1930s. [LeRoy: Nouriel Roubini and I both agree on this.] Wall Street firms have already lost billions, and the U.S. government has had to save at least one [Bear Stearns] from outright collapse. Some analysts forecast that losses could ultimately exceed a trillion dollars. [LeRoy: Closer to two trillion, I would think.]
The crisis was triggered by the bursting of a bubble in the U.S. mortgage market that had grown to grotesque proportions, thanks to lax banking regulations and complex financial instruments that hid risks in what appeared to be safe packages.
On top of that, there was the issue of 'moral hazard'. As economist have been pointing out for some years, many common financial incentives induce people to act for their own short-term benefit, while saddling someone else---often their clients or the firm they work for---with longer-term risks. In the case of the sub-prime mortgage market, for instance, brokers were collecting commissions on mortgages that required no deposit and no proof of income. Since the brokers were not lending their own money, it was for them a risk-free business. Meanwhile, investment banks took on these risky loans and lumped them together into 'collateralized debt obligations' (CDOs). Once the risks were safely blurred, the banks were able to sell the CDOs on at a healthy profit.
Alarming as this sounds, it should be fine if you really believe in individuals' good sense and equilibrium economics. Investors will simply factor the risks of the sub-prime mortgages into the value of mortgage-backed securities, and adjust their expectations, putting realistic prices on everything.
Unfortunately, equilibrium thinking has hit the wall. In 2007 a global panic saw stock markets plunge. "A striking feature of the crisis is that the situation appeared to be driven by emotion," says physicist and former hedge-fund manager Doyne Farmer, now at the Santa Fe Institute in New Mexico. "The word 'fear', which is not an equilibrium concept, appeared in almost every newspaper article covering these events."
The crisis also illustrates another shortcoming of equilibrium thinking: a tendency to underestimate the likelihood of sudden large events. Compared with the normal distribution of random events represented by the bell curve, the statistics of financial fluctuations have fat tails. In other words, large price fluctuations are more likely than one might at first sight expect.
Failure to appreciate this has led to a number of big losses by 'quant' hedge funds, which use complex mathematical algorithms to analyze the markets. While analysts insisted this was just bad luck, they had in fact based their calculations on an incorrect understanding of the statistics of the markets, according to economist Brad DeLong of the University of California, Berkeley. "They said things like, 'Our strategy was fine, we were just hit by a 16-standard-deviation event,'" he says. This reflects erroneous equilibrium thinking that assumes the tail of the curve is slender. "Tails are fat," says DeLong.
Perhaps we should have seen this coming. Some economists have long argued that the movement of opinions and information between people tends to amplify market movements, leading inevitably to fat tails. Bouchaud and colleague Olivier Guedj found strong evidence for the idea four years ago. Using data on analysts' forecasts of U.S., European, U.K. and Japanese stock earnings over the period 1987 to 2004, they looked at how well their predictions had turned out. The data showed, for starters, that they were generally over-optimistic---so much so that a more successful strategy would have been simply to assume that the following year's earnings would be the same as the current year's. Tellingly, Bouchaud and Guedj found that the analysts tended to make forecasts that were similar to those other analysts had already announced, even when this went against available information (www.arxiv.org/abs/cond-mat/0410079). They flock like sheep in Prada shoes.
LeRoy: I will post the last third or so of this article as a reply to this post. For the moment, let me announce that from now on I think I am going to describe myself as an econophysicist, to distinguish myself from all the 'orthodox' economists who simply don't (or even won't) bother themselves with stuff like this.